


Shotgun

by sharedwithyou



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angstangstangst, Dean is a Little Shit, Depressing, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Heavy Angst, Love/Hate, Sam is a Sweetheart, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 17:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11994981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharedwithyou/pseuds/sharedwithyou
Summary: “For fuck’s sake, Fergie??”“So you know who she is. Hah. Mr. ‘I never listen to that junk you call music.’”“That’s it, no pit stops until I have to go.”“But my bladder is like 3 times smaller than yours!!”“Tough.”“Dean Winchester I swear to God-““Hey, you should know the rules by now. Driver picks the music. Shotgun-““You shut your own cakehole Dean.”





	Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> i miss writing so much! i'm so tired and busy that i don't have energy to check my personal emails let alone reply to comments LET ALONE WRITE
> 
> i'm about finished with unpacking so hopefully i'll have more free time to sit down and write.  
> My husband recently surprised me with a costume like Cas, and it inspired me to get back into writing SPN fanfic. I didn't realize how much i had missed it.
> 
> for now, enjoy this just-churned mess of angst. it took forever but i'm really proud of it. it's not dark for once, but it is super depressing.
> 
> Still, it's really awesome and i hope you enjoy it lovelies!
> 
> XOXO Bucky the angstmaster

 

 

“Don’t even think about touching that dial.”

“Me?” You smiled innocently and stuck your hands deep in your pockets.

“I hunt demons (y/n). You don’t mess with reflexes like these.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, well try to change the station and you’re getting the Indian burn of a lifetime.”

“Red light!!”

The tires squealed as both of you got major whiplash.

“Reflexes my ass.”

“Hey I stopped right away. Not my fault you decided to wear your seat belt..”

“If I didn’t I would be splatting on the concrete right about now.”

“Exactly.”

You reached over to smack him in the forehead and he had you in a hammerlock before you could blink.

“I warned you.”

“Yeah well you’re not the only one with mad skills.” You smirked and whapped his knee, causing his foot to fly forward and distracting him enough for you to reach forward and tap the top 40’s channel. Whaddya know, his reflexes were just fine.

“For fuck’s sake, Fergie??”

“So you know who she is. Hah. Mr. ‘I never listen to that junk you call music.’”

“Yeah I know her ‘cause her body’s only on the cover of every other magazine.”

“Well, how do you explain knowing her voice then, hmm?!”

“She just said her own name. In the song.”

“Nyah nyah.” Was your go-to comeback when you were losing an argument.

“That’s it, no pit stops until I have to go.”

“But my bladder is like 3 times smaller than yours!!”

“Tough.”

“Dean Winchester I swear to God-“

“Hey, you should know the rules by now. Driver picks the music. Shotgun-“

 

“You shut your own cakehole Dean.”

 

 

“You know of all the times you rode shotgun, I think this is my favorite.”

“If I remember correctly, 9 times out of 10 I was shoved into the backseat so Sam could sit up front.”

“Say those words again.”

“What.”

“Shoved into the backseat- ow!” He sat up and shoved you off the bed as you twisted his nipple, hard.

“Overreaction?!” You glared at him, hurt.

“Reflexes, babe.”

“Oh would you shut up about your damn reflexes?!”

“What, you seemed to like them just now.”

“Maybe I was faking it just so you’d hurry up and finish.”

He frowned, before reaching over to pull you to your feet. “We should get going.”

“Afraid Cas will warp in when your pants are around your ankles?”

“I’m not the one who should worry about being seen naked.”

Really cheap shot. He knew how you felt about your love handles.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

You stuffed your head through your turtleneck as he laid back against his pillows to watch.

“Sweater in this weather? Not exactly in style, (y/n).”

“Yeah well if you kept your lips to yourself I wouldn’t have seven thousand hickeys would I?!”

“If I remember correctly…” He spoke loudly, mimicking your words earlier. You wondered why you’d let him have sex with you.

“…you were the one who took off my belt.”

Darn. You guessed you were equally responsible for this slightly enjoyable and mostly annoying event.

“I trust you’ll be discreet about this?”

“Not every woman wants to brag about how they slept with you, Dean.”

“No need to get touchy. We did enough of that earlier, didn’t we?”

 

“Shut your damn cakehole.”

 

“You okay (y/n)?”

“Sure, why?” You turned to see Sam looking at you, concerned. You weren’t quite sure what color his eyes were, but right now they seemed puppy brown.

“You haven’t asked to change the music for at least half an hour.”

“…is that your general gauge of my normalcy?”

“That and needing to pee every five minutes.”

He grinned and shook his floppy hair, so you squeezed his shoulder instead of smacking him.

Dean gave you a look through the rearview mirror. He knew if he had been the one to say it he would’ve gotten punched for sure.

“You’ve been pretty quiet the whole ride.”

“Just kind of tired, I guess.”

“All tuckered out, eh?”

Dean’s voice was teasing as usual, but you knew there was more to it.

“It’s been a pretty boring day, yeah.”

“What the hell Dean?!” Sam yelped as Dean took a hard left turn.

“Got a hankering for some pie.”

“And you couldn’t have made a safe u-turn at the next light? Or waited until we got to a less sketchy looking convenience store?!”

“When you gotta go, you gotta go.” You quipped, and Sam chuckled lightly.

“Well do you?” Dean asked, looking annoyed.

“I mean, I guess I could.”

“Good. Pick me up some pie when you’re done.”

“Are you serious?!” It was sweltering outside and he had his own two feet!

“I’ll go with you,” Sam offered.

“No, let (y/n) go. I have to talk to you.”

“Ooh, super secret brother chat?”

“Blow me, (Y/n).” Dean shot back, irritated.

Sam looked at him strangely; he usually wasn’t that crass with you.

“Yeah, you wish.” You snapped right back, before popping out the door and stalking into the muggy heat.

“Uh, could you get me an iced tea since you’re already going?” Sam called.

 

“Shotgun shuts his cakehole!” You barked over your shoulder.

 

 

Sitting on the 3 layers of toilet liners, you forced yourself to calm down. You didn’t know why you were so ticked. I mean, being stuck with Dean usually put you in a bad mood, but things had gotten better between you for a while. The arguments were more playful; the flirting was less aggressive. You hadn’t expected things to change after you slept together.

Well, you hadn’t expected things to get worse.

You got up and washed your hands, staring at yourself in the spotted mirror. Did you really think Dean would be sweeter to you after the two of you…consummated?

You’d been running around in your own head the whole ride. Had Dean been acting warmer just to get you into bed? You hated him right now, but it was hard to think of him as being that manipulative. Or to think of yourself as being that easily manipulated.

Sure, you’d seen how he treated girls he met along the road. But you’d always given him the benefit of the doubt; he couldn’t really “see you again” since he was going to the next state in a few hours. And they’d always seemed happy to have spent the night with him.

Not like how you felt. Slightly dirty. Ashamed.

But why guilty? You hadn’t done anything wrong.

Maybe you just couldn’t stand that Dean Winchester had gotten the best of you. He’d poached your kills before, but he’d always been a better hunter.

Maybe he was the better player, too. You’d convinced yourself that it would just be physical, whatever it was between the two of you, but clearly you’d somehow gotten attached anyway.

 

“Come on, (y/n), let’s go!”

A sharp pounding woke you from your bout of self-loathing. Well well, looks like someone got tired of waiting for their pie.

“Give me a second!” You growled, leaving out the ‘bitch’ at the end of the sentence. Wasn’t that his pet name for Sam, anyway?

 

You supposed you were glad he didn’t have an expletive specifically for you;

You’d have to rate high enough on his list for that.

And you didn’t have any illusions anymore.

 

 

Somehow the rest of the ride went by smoothly; probably because all three of you had lapsed into your own respective silences.

You didn’t even realize you’d arrived until Dean honked the horn.

“Most people just park and say we’re here, Dean.”

“This way is more fun.”

“Well ‘this way’ is more mean.” See how he liked getting his words repeated back to him in a mocking tone.

Sensing tension after the unusually calm ride, Sam slid out of his seat quietly to unload.

Surprisingly, Dean merely grinned and responded.

“ ’This way’ is more fun, (y/n).”

He glanced over your shoulder quickly, before unbuckling and twisting himself into the backseat. You looked at him warily.

“Come on.” He tapped his lips.

“Not exactly on the DL, Brainiac.”

“Sam’s busy taking our bags upstairs.”

You shook your head, annoyed at yourself as your lips formed an involuntary pout.

“Just plant one on me, (y/n). You know you want to.”

Even if some part of you had wanted to, his last words pushed any thought of that out of your mind.

You scooted away from him, but he wriggled after you with a smirk.

“Please, (y/n)? Kiss and make up.”

It gave you a slightly sick sense of satisfaction to hear him beg. You probably should have just gotten out.

“Ask me nicely.”

He rolled his eyes, but obliged. “Pretty please with a cherry on top.”

You leaned in and put your lips on the corners of his.

 

Symbolic enough, you guessed. Not quite on the mark, halfway between a friendly peck on the cheek and a romantic-enough kiss on the lips; leaving both of you wanting more.

 

But the car was getting stuffy, and the new motel room promised air conditioning and a toilet seat that had been Cloroxed within the last 48 hours.

Right on time, Sam came ambling out of the room to get the last of the stuff.

“You gonna help me out or what?” He joked as he lugged out the last of the weapons.

“Sure. I’ll carry your wallet.”

He reached out to tousle your hair, and you resisted the urge to latch to his side like a tentacle and give him a long hug.

“Move it, (y/n)!” Dean had already scrambled quick as a squirrel out of the backseat and was rolling the suitcases across the hallway.

You felt a smile spread across your face as he hitched the tiger-striped duffel bag over his shoulder and continued to the room.

He’d never carried your bag for you before.

 

 

“You can read minds, right Cas?”

“Why.”

He was typically abrupt and to the point, but you knew he was extra apprehensive around you.

“Read that guy over there to see if he’s into me.”

Cas merely grunted and continued looking over your shoulder for the Dynamic Duo.

“You could at least try being friendly, you know.”

“Friendly…”

“Sure it implies weakness, but we’re all human.” You’d said that expression so often that Dean had drilled the meaning into Cas by now.

“I’m answering your questions, if that counts.”

“Well, it’s something.” You relented.

“To be truthful I view all humans as suspicious until proven otherwise.”

“How many times have I worked with Sam and Dean?”

“Exactly twenty seven.”

“Well…”

“Trust is earned, not given.”

He was always a stick in the mud, but you’d let it go because he was tight with Dean. But fuck Dean, right? I mean in more ways than one.

“I suppose you’re right.”

He looked at you, slightly confused but still on edge.

“Humans are such fickle creatures.” You smiled angelically at him, while reaching for the blade in your pocket. “You can never count on them to-“

“(Y/n)!” Sam yelled over the noise in the bar as he and Dean walked in, making a scene as usual. Even when they weren’t doing something strange, their mere presence seemed to attract major attention. Didn’t help that they were both hotties, either.

“Whachu drinking Cas? It’s on me.” Dean strolled up to the bar while Sam powerwalked over and pulled you down the hall.

“I don’t drink, Dean.”

“Come on, don’t be a stick in the mud.”

“Well, now you sound like (y/n)…”

 

 

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

Apparently the only quite place in the bar was the bathroom. He hovered in the hallway before pulling you into the men’s room.

“I don’t know what-“

“Save it, (y/n)!” He spoke angrily, but he seemed more worried than mad.

“I wasn’t going to stab him. Just hit the wood between his fingers to shut him up.”

He was still giving you the ‘disappointed dad’ look, but relaxed a little.

“It’s not just this, (y/n). You’ve been…off.”

You remembered yelling at him in the gas station parking lot, and looked down at your feet. You never raised your voice at him except when you were shrieking with laughter at his jokes.

Dean had been a jerk, and you had taken it out on his sweet brother.

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

He looked away as well, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“Don’t worry about it, (Y/n). I guess I’ve been a little off myself.”

“Really?” He’d seemed the same nice guy he always was.

“Yeah. When you went the restroom earlier today-“

“Oh, oh, spill!” You felt yourself perk up to your jokey self, but he still refused to meet your eye.

“Nevermind. It doesn’t really concern you.”

“Oh pish tosh! I want to know!”

“Forget I mentioned it.” He put his hands on your shoulders and pushed you out of the men’s room.

“You know you want to tell me-“

“Drop it!” Sam’s deep voice cut through your sing-song quickly. He moved his hands from your shoulders and put them in his jacket pockets awkwardly.

“Okay…” You supposed you were due for it after having snapped at him earlier.  Anyway, those were Dean’s words and not yours.

“(y/n)-“

“I think I’ll go get a drink, then head back to the motel.”

“But-“

“You guys have fun though. You Dean and Cas. The Three Musketeers.” You were yelling the last few words over the music as you backed out of the hallway and made a quick exit into the kitchen.

 

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be in here!”

“Nyah nyah,” you muttered to the cook, before dashing through the back door and into the parking lot.

 

 

“Not exactly the neighborhood for a lady at this hour, is it?”

You weren’t in the mood for banter, so you just made the motion of reaching for a pistol in your jacket. He didn’t need to know that you’d left it in the motel bathroom after practicing James Bond poses in the mirror.

“Woah woah, I didn’t mean anything by it. Was just warning you, is all.”

Evidently ‘didn’t mean anything by it’ was the motto of the day.

“Sorry I scared you.” He stepped under the street lamp so you could see his face and that his hands were empty.

“Standing in the shadows isn’t the best way to make people feel safe.”

“Yeah, well I gotta watch out for myself too ya know.”

“Maybe don’t hang out in dark alleys in the first place.”

“Right. Well, I’ll just be on my way then.” He shrank away from the lamp and you heard footsteps recede.

 

“That’s right, you better run.”

 

You turned at the voice and saw Dean with a flashlight on the other end of the alley.

“Well, fancy meeting you here.”

“Come on, (y/n). Let’s go home.”

“Home? Considering the 3 months I’ve been on the road, home is probably about 1500 miles away.”

“Just get to the car, (y/n).”

“What, no Vanessa Carlton joke?”

He pressed his lips thinly together, before walking towards you and pushing you towards the Impala.

Somehow, his lips still seemed so plush even in that grim look.

“Don’t be so pushy,” you joked.

“That was really stupid, (y/n). Walking out the back by yourself. You didn’t even hear me coming!”

“Shut up about you and your godlike reflexes already. Besides, I took care of myself, didn’t I?”

“Bullshit. You left your gun at home. You’re lucky I was there.”

“I still have my blade on me. And if I remember correctly I kicked your ass in our West Side Story tribute rumble.”

“Stop calling it that. I was possessed that time and it’s not a joke. Besides, he could’ve had a gun!”

“Like I haven’t fought someone with a gun before!” He was being so stubborn; you’d been on your own long before you met him. It had always been him and Sam covering each others backs like babies; you’d always had your own.

“Just drop it, then.”

“Drop what?! You started it!!”

“Obviously you’re too retarded to see the obvious, so I’m not going to waste my breath.”

Well that was rich.

“Besides your precious angel was around, wasn’t he?! Or would he be too distrustful to put those magic hands on me?!”

“Cas is just careful, unlike you!”

“Well I don’t need a guardian angel anyway. And I certainly don’t need either of you!” You turned around to head back in and call a taxi, but all of a sudden your face was on the ground.

 

“Shit…”

 

The wind had been knocked out of you so it was just Dean’s whispered cuss that hung in the air for a minute or so.

When you could finally breathe, you let out a bitter laugh that made him wince.

“I guess you were right. Your reflexes are good. Definitely better than mine.”

He wanted to speak, but couldn’t seem to hold on to any of the words whirling through his head.

“I’ve never seen someone slapped so hard they hit the floor. That’s a pretty boss-ass move right there.”

He gaped at you still, unable to speak.

You turned your back on him once more, though the last time hadn’t worked out so well. “I’ll have Cas teleport me back to the motel.”

“(y/n), I-“

 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Sam. Shotgun shuts her piehole.”

 

 

“You’re a little self-destructive when you get upset, aren’t you?”

You gave Sam a small grin as you iced your red face. He assumed that you’d gotten into a barfight, and that was basically true.

“Looks like that’s gonna leave a mark.”

“All hunters have scars, right?”

“Not a palm-shaped one on their face, (y/n).”

The two of you sat in the motel room alone now, after Cas had teleported you back and wished you goodnight. Apparently seeing you with gravel embedded in your cheek softened him up a little.

“Being on the road with us kind of takes a toll on your mood, huh.”

“Us?”

He chuckled as you plopped onto the rollaway cot. Apparently the two brothers sharing a queen was “too weird.” So they always each got one and you were stuck with the trundle bed. Or futon. “I guess you don’t have much of a problem with me, at least.”

“I should get you one of those friendship bracelets that say ‘I hate you the least.’” You replied with a chuckle of your own.

“Things are getting better in general, though, right?”

You looked at him pensively, but didn’t bother answering.

 

“I think it’s time I moved on to doing my own thing again.”

 

You heard a door slam, and looked out the window to see Dean storming away. Apparently he’d come in and once again you hadn’t noticed. You’d gotten rusty, tagging along with the ‘two best hunters in the world.’

Sam was shell-shocked, but you weren’t sure if it was from what you said or Dean’s reaction. You supposed you were flattered, anyway.

“Sam?”

“I…I guess I hadn’t realized how unhappy you were.”

“It’s not that…” you trailed off, wondering how you could explain the sadness that had settled over you without telling him about the whole Dean mess.

“Maybe it’s for the best.”

You hid your hurt look and gave him an agreeable nod. You’d hoped you’d been around long enough to mean something to him.

“I mean, I love having you around.”

You felt the sweetness rise out of the depths, finally, and blushed. “Ditto.”

“And I know Dean feels the same way.”

“If you say so.”

“I mean it. I know he’s a bit of an ass sometimes-“

“A bit?”

“Well… I suppose there’s no harm in telling you now.”

You got off your bed and went to grab your pistol from the bathroom before you forgot. You were getting exhausted now, and not just your body. Your heart felt tired too.

“What Dean and I were talking about earlier-

“No need to tell me. It’s Winchester-talk.” You stole a washcloth and put it in your luggage. You were glad you hadn’t unpacked yet. You could leave quickly, tomorrow. Early enough so there wouldn’t be a scene.

“I feel like maybe you should know.”

“Hey, bros before hoes right?”

“I would never-“

“Just a saying, Sam.” You got up and sat on the arm of his sofa chair. It would be your last chance to get close to him for a while.

“I know.” He was looking at his lap, so you leaned against him in a sort-of hug. He looked up at you and smiled sadly. “Actually you were sort of right.”

“That I’m a ho?”

“No!” You squeezed his shoulder with a grin, and he leaned his head into your side. You guessed he didn’t mind your love handles.

“Dean and I… well I guess we kinda had a thing-“

“For each other?! Oh God!!”

“Be serious for one second,” Sam pleaded, so you made a motion of locking your lips and throwing away the key. He didn’t need to know you were being silly because the whole situation was so fucking hilarious.

 

You’d chosen one of them haphazardly, never realizing you’d had a chance with the other.

You’d taken Dean because you were lonely and he was there; as cruel as he could be, he was gorgeous and good. You hadn’t thought of Sam at all, you’d been so distracted in the dirty game you and his brother had played.

Who could hurt the other more? Who could make one want the other more?

You’d played the victim to his bully when in the end you’d just wanted to be in his arms, even just for an afternoon.

 

You supposed in the end, you had won. You’d be the one walking away without hitting anyone or slamming any doors.

 

Would things have been different if you’d stopped trying to beat Dean?

Could something have happened between you and Sam? Something good?

Something enough for you to stay?

 

 

“(Y/n).”

 

A gravely voice broke the awkward silence.

“Cas?”

“If you’d like to go home, I could take you right now.”

You looked at him curiously, but there was no suspicion in his face now. Just a trace of what? Sympathy?

“Somebody’s been eavesdropping.” You wore your humor like a shield, more so than a mask.

“Ran into Dean just now. Seems like you’re ready to leave.”

You had no one-liner this time. It was hard, being endlessly funny. You supposed you’d run out of juice.

 

“Thanks Cas, but I think I’ll do it on my own.”

 

“If that’s what you want.”

“So, I guess…I’ll see you around?”

“It would seem so.”

“We do run in the same circles.” You laughed once more, but you were tired of that sound.

“Dean requested that I keep an eye on you.”

Sam nodded in approval, but you bristled at this.

Still, it was late, and you didn’t feel like having to explain a stalker joke to the angel.

“Thank you, Castiel.”

“Make sure you thank Dean as well.”

“I will.”

Then he was gone, and you gave into the urge to fall asleep on the arm of the chair, feeling the heat of Sam's shoulder against your still-throbbing cheek.

 

When you woke up the next morning, you were in his bed, and he was asleep on your cot, his knees practically to his chin. You knew he’d carried you there, but you’d have to leave it to your dreams to know what it felt like.

 

 

“Long night?”

He didn’t look up, but nodded his head slowly. There was a can of beer in his hand, but it looked more like an accessory. There were two others on the ground near him.

His bed had been untouched when you left earlier, but you didn’t expect to find him at the bus station nearly a mile away. Now you knew why.

“Too risky to drive?”

“Was waiting for you.”

You stared at him, as he took a sip and grimaced at the beer that had gone flat.

“How long have you been here?!”

“An hour, maybe two.”

You checked your phone quickly. “It’s six.”

“Three, then.”

“How did you know-“

“Knew you’d turn down Cas’s offer. Knew you’d rather travel like a hobo than accept a favor.”

He was dropping pronouns left and right, but you knew it wasn’t booze.

 

He was exhausted, just like you.

 

“About Cas…”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Still. Thanks, Dean.”

He put down the can gently and turned to look at you with those beautiful blue eyes.

 

“I wish I could take it back, (y/n).”

“Time travel is bad for the universe, Dean.”

“Just this once, then.”

You reached forward, but he shifted away, uneasy.

“All of it, Dean?”

You reached forward once more and put your hand on his knee. Half a friend, half a lover.

“It was messy Dean, from the beginning to the end.”

“Just let me take back the last 8 hours, then.”

“Including this?”

“Would there even be a this if I hadn’t…”

You shushed him, then. What’s done was done.

Neither of you could take it back.

 

You knew he had so much to say, but you were pretty sure he didn’t have the words yet. You sure weren’t ready to hear it. But maybe come the next year…who knew?

A hunter’s life is always changing.

So you sat side by side, your hand on his knee and his jacket around you, as the sun rose.

 

The bus came rumbling down the long stretch of road, then. You stood up and hitched your bag over your shoulder, remembering the same motion Dean had made less than 24 hours ago.

“You look ridiculous with that suitcase.”

“It just doesn’t go with your jacket, that’s all.” You shrugged it off and handed it to him. He shook his head, but you couldn’t take it with you. He’d been wearing it for years, and you’d feel like you were taking a big part of him with you. It was too much.

“Just give it back to me the next time you see me, (y/n).” His voice sounded pleading, but the contentment you felt was pure. I’ll miss you too, Dean.

You blinked hard and stuffed it into his hands. “You know I’d rather freeze than accept a favor.”

“Are you saying you won’t be coming back soon?”

You waved hard at the bus driver to make sure he stopped.

 

“It might be sooner than you think.

 

I might just get a car myself.”

 

“An Impala?” He gave you a crooked grin as the bus doors creaked open and you hauled you and your shit up the scuffed steps.

 

 

“All I know is if I get one, you’re riding shotgun.”

 

 

He shaded his eyes as a huge gust of wind flung dust everywhere. The bus driver cleared his throat, annoyed, so you placed your bag in the nearest seat and sat down.

 

 

“(Y/n)!!”

 

 

You jumped out of your chair at his loud yell and ran to the door. And really, it looked like he wanted to ask you to stay.

But the bus driver cleared his throat once more, mumbling some curses under his breath.

So you just smiled as a tear came rolling down your cheek. He started forward, but you cleared your throat loudly, so he stopped.

 

“Driver picks the music, Dean.”

 

“Shotgun shuts hi-“

 

Then the doors slammed shut and the bus lurched forward and you almost hit your head against the so-called safety rail.

 

But you caught your balance, and made your way back to your seat right behind the bus driver, where you’d be sure to test out your patellar reflex every ten minutes.

Your cellphone buzzed then, and you prayed it wasn’t either of the brothers calling you. It wasn’t the right time anymore.

 

It was only a text, though. No words, either.

Just a stock photo of a cake.

 

So you leaned back and propped your feet against the back of the driver’s seat, and laughed and cried the whole way home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> WAHHHHH
> 
> RANDOM RAMBLINGS:
> 
> QUICK POLL 1: WHO?! ALSO, SEQUEL?!  
> i have to admit, i wrote dean as a big old jerk in this one and i really want to give him another chance. but i think sam deserves it more.
> 
> quick poll 2: WHICH PART GAVE YOU THE MOST FEELS  
> i think mine is when lovely thinks dean's at the bus station because he needs a ride back to the motel, but he was waiting for her the whole time
> 
> also when you almost lose your balance, but catch yourself. like you're getting used to being on your own again, and ready to hunt on your own again. UGHH MY HEART
> 
>  
> 
> quick poll 3: WHICH PART DESTROYED YOU  
> the fucking bus driver cutting Dean off man  
> i felt so bad writing that part  
> i'm sorry
> 
>  
> 
> nonetheless, i hope you enjoyed! please leave a comment if you did!
> 
> thanks for reading lovelies, and for supporting me through all the bullshit that is life. i hope i can write again very soon!
> 
> XOXO Bucky


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